


Sweet Tradgedy

by evenlouder



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 19:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4361870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evenlouder/pseuds/evenlouder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somedays are just shit, y’know? Where no amount of joking around or quoting random shit will make you feel better. I know how it feels..  But some days are the epitome of shit… You can barely smile, or not at all. You can only sort of care, and after a while all you want to do is sit and cry, and I have those days often.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Tradgedy

_Somedays are just shit, y’know? Where no amount of joking around or quoting random shit will make you feel better. I know how it feels.. But some days are the epitome of shit… You can barely smile, or not at all. You can only sort of care, and after a while all you want to do is sit and cry, and I have those days often._

_I know it’s some kind of mental disorder, I know it can be helped, but I just want it to be there to make me a sweet tragedy.. To make me feel like there will be someone to find me and kiss my scars, or help me through it or something like that, so I didn’t tell anyone._

_It would be good for a few months, then I would relapse for a few days, going over the same scars over and over, bringing lines of blood on my arms, maybe just maybe, someone would walk in and catch me. Someone would pick me up and fix me or just do something. Something to help or fuel my sweet little tragedy._

_But the thing about “sweet tragedies” are that there is tragedy. There is always a time where your sadness had been bottled up for so long and you need to get it out. And you take this out on yourself.. You start again on your legs, the red filling up the water._

_And you think “When will my prince charming come to save me?” he never will. Just buck up, princess, it’s gonna get worse before it gets better and that’s gonna be bad. And I know thats gonna be hell._

So when you come into work with a long sleeved shirt on in mid-Summer Texas, everyone knows some shit was up. The first person to notice was Ray, being that you guys spend so much time together, that’s a bit of an understatement.. You go out for lunch together daily and practically share an editing desk.

“Hey. Joel…. C’mere for a few minutes.. I wanna ask you about something..”

Carrying a large cup of coffee, your third that day, you make your way leisurely over to Ray’s desk, hoping that it is about work, and not your current predicament.

Ray turns his desk chair around to face you “Can I ask you something?”

“Fire, dude.” You put the hot coffee on the light-coloured table beside the mousepad.

“Are you okay?”

“What the hell do you mean ‘am I okay’?”

“It’s just that wearing that kind of attire isn’t the ’norm’ for you in the summer. Hell, you wouldn’t wear that ugly-ass shirt anytime.”

“Fuck you, Ray.. I’m fine..”

You pick up your coffee and walk back to the kitchen and pour it out after taking a sip. You were upset.. You wanted to scream, cry, yell.. “I’m not okay, Ray! I’m not! I need help!” but you just couldn’t.. Here comes the tragedy behind the sweet.. Wait, there isn’t a sweet. It fucking sucks ass.

That was a perfect description of your day. “It fucking sucks ass” Then you run. You don’t know where, but you do. You pass the podcast sets and keep going onto the parking lot. When you reach the sun outside it reminds you how hot it is. There's a ladder for a fire escape to the upper floors that used to be there before the ceiling was taken down.

The rungs of the ladder are tough against your hands as you climb to the roof so you could escape. Burnie showed you this place one day for an Immersion you had to help with.

Theres still a forgotten chair up here that you sit on and take your heavy shirt off. The lines and gashes are still fresh and you have to resist the urge to pick at them further. The background noise of passing cars and people comfort you instead of letting the silence deafen.

“Joel?”

The younger, worn out voice penetrates the air and Ray is sitting on the floor beside you.

“You’re not okay, Joel and I know that. And I’m not going to kiss your scars or tell you you’re special because of it, but I can help, and I can listen. So thats what I will do. So talk, old man. enlighten me.”

So you tell him about your beautiful tragedy. On how you want it to be like the movies and how you’ve been waiting for so long and then you hug him. Your bodies fit perfectly together as you wrap your arms around him.

And then you say “I love you” But he doesn’t say it back. He says that he’s your best friend and he’ll do anything for you, but not that.

So it comes to you. It’s not like the movies and it never will be. Because sweet tragedy was never and will never be a thing. there is only one or the other, and you’re missing a lot of sweet.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic! This was originally published on my tumblr, radvsew.


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